


One Day at a Time

by thiefless



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: COVID-19, Gen, Light-Hearted, Medical Inaccuracies, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Not To Be Taken Too Seriously, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Protective Peter Parker, Sick Tony Stark, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark has coronavirus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefless/pseuds/thiefless
Summary: Look, let's get one thing straight. Tony Stark has survived dozens of near-death experiences over the years. He's accumulated quite the score. Seriously. Go check his Wikipedia. He's fought everything nine ways to Sunday: ex-friends, would-be terrorists, actual terrorists, and genocidal aliens hell-bent on total world destruction. Literally anything you can think of, Tony's overcome – and, crucially, lived to tell the tale.So, he'll be damned if he lets a freak pandemic be the thing that finally snuffs the spark of life out of him.Unfortunately, he may not get much of a choice in the matter.(The friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man might have something to say about that.)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Kudos: 46





	One Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys. I'm sorry I haven't posted anything in a couple months. Writer's block is absolutely awful. 
> 
> This fic is a coronavirus fic, but it probably doesn't reflect reality. I'm very fortunate in that none of my family have it so far. I did my best to try and keep it as accurate (kind of) as I could, but I don't think it worked out very well. It's more light-hearted than it perhaps should be, so please don't take this too seriously.
> 
> I hope everyone is doing okay. Keep safe y'all.

Look, let's get one thing straight. Tony Stark has survived dozens of near-death experiences over the years. He's accumulated quite the score. Seriously. Go check his Wikipedia. He's fought everything nine ways to Sunday: ex-friends, would-be terrorists, actual terrorists, and genocidal aliens hell-bent on total world destruction. Literally anything you can think of, Tony's overcome – and, crucially, lived to tell the tale.

So, he'll be damned if he lets a freak pandemic be the thing that finally snuffs the spark of life out of him.

Unfortunately, he may not get much of a choice in the matter. 

(The friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man might have something to say about that.)

* * *

It started with a cough – a rigorous, belly-aching, lung-wrenching chestburster. (Ripley would be proud. Tony knew Peter would have made that parallel.) Tony told himself: it was fine. He was fine. He saved the world, no, the _universe_ nearly a year ago. He could handle something as trivial as a cough. 

Unfortunately, his fantasised ability to heal himself with the power of egotism did not extend to this virus. Funnily enough. 

Tony's immune system was compromised; had been compromised since the snap. Because he hadn't suffered enough.

“How come radiation can give you a killer immune system, yet absolutely kill mine?” Tony had teased around the cough. 

Pete just shook his head, small smile dancing on the curve of his lips. 

Pepper and Morgan had already moved out two weeks before Covid-19 reared its ugly head, temporarily living in the Tower. Pep still had to run his company – because the world didn't just stop turning – and Tony insisted, even though it broke his heart, that Morgan relocate too. He could survive getting sick; what he vehemently _refused_ to handle was potentially putting his wife and daughter at risk. Even if it meant he had to watch his daughter grow up on a Zoom video call.

(“How's my Tower doing, Pep?”

“Excuse me, _my_ Tower, remember? I own twelve percent of it,” Pepper deadpanned.

Tony's answering chuckles quickly soured; his lungs protesting the display of laughter. 

“Stay safe, sweetheart,” she whispered, love lacing her tone. Tony was addicted to the sound, his whole body screaming at the emptiness without her. 

“Love you three thousand, daddy,” Morgan added. 

“Love you three thousand,” Tony replied, choked.

Yeah. It wasn't a perfect system. Tony downright loathed it.)

His literal spider-child, on the other hand, stuck to him like glue, and refused to buckle to his demands. Peter's immune system was spectacular – far, far too spectacular to fall prey to coronavirus. The virus couldn't even live on his skin. Silver linings, and all that. 

So, when Doctor Cho, decked in full PPE regalia, came to perform the blood test on him, it was unsurprising when the result was a positive one. 

Peter was only too willing to oversee Tony's recovery. Thankfully, at this juncture, the virus was not as serious as it could have been – and Tony understood just how lucky he was in that respect. His bed underwent a medical transformation for the interim, equipped with a ventilator and other breathing apparatuses. _Better to be safe than sorry, Stark._

At first, Tony rejected Peter's help, reluctant to appear weak in front of his kid as Iron Man fought the dogged tenacity of a virus that refused to bow down, to submit. His pride was far too stubborn. 

As was Peter. 

(And Tony couldn't pretend that he wasn't happy to spend time with the kid he had mourned for five years.)

Still. They made it work. 

May was working her ass off, delivering essential service as an ER nurse, and Happy had his hours reduced, so he was busy running the house in her absence, as Peter had relayed to Tony. And, in addition to playing nurse, the kid was donating blood to Helen Cho in the vain hope that something in that radioactive spider-blood would help develop a vaccine. 

Spider-Man was also taking quite a significant step back from crime-fighting. The lowlife thugs and criminals had apparently heeded the government's warnings, all of them remaining in their homes for the foreseeable future. 

That meant Tony bore the full brunt of Peter Parker's endless energy, as the kid poured all of it into taking care of Tony. 

Tony's trademark pizzazz had fallen flat in the wake of this damned illness – his respiratory system having capitulated to the subjugation, and his body quickly following suit. He'd never felt so... weak. Useless. Feeble. 

Huh. 

_Feeble_. That was never a word used to describe Mr. Tony Stark. Iron Man. That was an adjective for the likes of old- _er_ ladies and gentlemen. Not for Tony; never for Tony.

It's funny. You never realise, when you're young, that one day words like feeble could be used to colour your character. You think you're always going to be this young, this powerful. But you're not. 

It takes an average of seven years for the human body to completely replenish each and every last cell – a genetic makeover. _Out with the old, and in with the new,_ or so they say.

But Tony wasn't ready. He had so much to live for – he had his kid back, he had his wife and daughter; family unit was finally complete.

And now this. 

Tony was snapped from his thoughts by the sudden slamming of the front door, and the _thump-thump_ of his spider-kid racing up the stairs. 

“You would not believe,” Peter managed to speak through gasping breaths, his weight bracketing the door behind him. The kid had just braved a much-needed trip to the grocery store for essentials, and, well. “The lengths I have had to go through for this toilet roll. I had to fight off at least seven – no, eight if you included her friend – Karens for this. _And_ I had to fight them off while maintaining my distance. Do you know how hard that is?”

Tony shuddered – whether in compassion or maybe from the chills wracking his body was anybody's guess, but Tony liked to favour the latter. “I feel for you, kid. Did I ever tell you about the time I spent a night with a Karen?”

(Tony's lungs chose that moment to spectacularly collapse and fail on him, wrenching the oxygen right out. Peter raced to place the oxygen mask back on his face. Tony never did get to finish his tale. Ah, well. Story for another time.)

“Did Happy–” damn, when did fucking breathing become such a hardship –“seriously go to the store dressed in a hazmat suit?”

Giggles erupted from Peter's lips. “He did. Don't worry, Mr. Stark, I took pictures.” He then brandished aforementioned evidence to Tony on his phone. 

“It's a very good look for him,” Tony decided breathlessly. “He models it well.”

Peter laughed. He motioned for Tony to put the mask back on. 

Tony obliged. His lungs had never been so happy to aspirate oxygen in all his life.

His kid bumbled about, making sure Tony was as comfortable as he could be. Tony was taking each day one at a time – knowing that Peter was there to catch him when he fell.


End file.
